Programmed
by Brooklyn1918
Summary: Hannah Jones was taken to Hydra after she was subject to a super soldier program. Forced to work with the Winter Solder, they learn to break through the programming.
1. Capture

**Winter of 1953:**

My pounding footsteps are the only things that can be heared for miles. The black blanket of night has fallen, the only source of light is the half of a silver moon hanging low in the sky. The white snowflakes illuminated as they fall between the pine trees. The flat ground made rough by the thousands of roots that pop up. A wolf howls, low and slow, picking up volume somewhere in the distance. I cast a glance over my shoulder, knowing somewhere out behind me is a shadow, gaining on me. I look forward once again. I'm fast, thanks to the super soldier serum they put in me. The advancing shadow in my persuit is faster. Something flys into the tree beside me with a soft thump. It's lost I'm my wake, I don't get a chance to see it. Another soft thump, and I trip over a root. I sprawl down on the ground, as I reach over my shoulder and pull out a small dart from my back. I take in its silver frame as I fall into a blackened unconscious state.

I jolt awake in some sort of cell. It is made of a black metal frame, surrounded by amber glass. I look to my wrists, strapped to the bulky chair under me. Even if I wasn't strapped down, I don't think I would be able to break the glass anyway. It looks to be three inches thick. I only have a modified version of the serum in me, so I'm not as strong or fast as the original super soldier.

I look out the glass, it's thickness slightly distorts things, and blocks out all sound. People in lab coats move around on the other side. They carry clip boards, boxes, test tubes, and peices of machines, while others sit or stand behind large controll panels. In the center of the large circular room is a smaller circular area pressed down into the floor. In the middle of that is a chair very similar to mine. The only difference is that there is some sort of apparatus that is encompassing the head of a man strapped to the chair. His hair looks as if it hasn't been cut in a long time, it's brown shaggy mess is drenched in sweat. He is wearing leather pants and tactical boots, but a tank top made of some sort of thick looking cloth. His arms look muscular, except one of his arms is a shiny silver. His head is tilted back, mouth open in a screaming agony. At this moment I'm glad that the glass makes things soundproof. The apparatus lifts off his head and he drops it, chin to chest, drawing in long rattling breaths. My tank is directly opposite of his, he lifts his head slightly and makes eye contact with me. His eyes look pleading, conveying a pain beyond physical. I can't be sure, but if I had to guess his eyes were blue.

My attention is pulled away from the curious person as a man steps in front of my cell. He is unlike any of the other people walking around outside, he is wearing some sort of military uniform. His face portrays an expression of curiosity, as he motions to me, then to the man in the center of the room. The one with the metal arm. Without looking he points over his shoulder at one of the people behind the controll panel, who then proceeds to press a button. Blinding light, and a freezing cold, a scream escapes past my lips. My vision blacks out, and once again I fall unconscious. I don't remember anything after that.

**Spring 1966:**

I open my eyes to the amber glass in front of me sliding open. The binds release and I step out. I stand rim rod straight, hands clasped behind my back. I await orders. Why am I doing this? Why can't I remember anything besides my desire to follow orders? My handler walks up to me, and points me to a room off to my left. I walk in as the iron door slides shut behind me. The room is empty aside from a cold metal table in the corner. On the table sits a neatly folded suit that I change into. The black leather is slimming, fully conforming to my curved frame. The jacket straps horizontally across my chest, but doesn't restrict my ability to breath. It also gives me the feeling of knowing who is in charge. It certainly isn't me. I slide on the tactical boots beside me, made of more black leather. The door slides open as I finish tieing my boots. I stand at attentions as a frightened looking Hydra intern walks into the room. I am much taller than him, so I give him a scowl. He tells me to follow him, so I do. He leads me down a hall, we turn left, then right, and finally make another right into a long room, one wall is a glass window that looks into the holding unit silo. I look out to the cell I just woke up from, then turn to look around the rest of the room.

The back wall is lined with one long shelf of weapons. There are two doors, on on either end of the room. One is the one we just came in, and the other leads who knows where. In the center of the room is another metal table, identical to the one my uniform was sitting on. This table is accompanied by a trio of matching metal chairs, whose legs have made slight scuff marks on the concrete floor. In the corner stands the soldier. His face sentient, only his eyes moving, taking in the room. The lower half of his face is covered by a mask, I know that mine is coming soon. He is wearing a suit identical to mine, except that he has no left sleeve, exposing his metal arm. Our eyes meet, his stormy blue eyes meet mine and his eyes seem to soften, but only for a second. I am instructed to pick out weapons, then to sit at the table. The soldier is told to do the same. We walk to the shelf and I choose a semi automatic rifle, a pistol, and two double edged full tang knives. I slide them into their sheaths on my belt and pick up three small spherical bombs. I slide the pistol into its holster, attach the rifle to my back holster, and slip the bombs into one of the many pockets of my pants. I glance to the soldier who has gathered a similar array of weaponry, then proceed to sit at the table. I am handed a mask, which slips on easily. Two pairs of goggles are placed in front of us, as the soldier sits next to me. Another intern comes in and smears grease paint over our eyes. We are quickly briefed on our mission. We are to leave for New York, where a political figure is in one of the hotels. We are to get in, take out the target, and get out. The handler points to the door that we haven't gone through, and we stand to leave. The soldier and I walk side by side, our boots moving silently, carrying us to the door. I risk a glance at the soldier, just as he does the same. He raises an eyebrow at me, and looks foreword once more.

As we enter through the door, we come into an aircraft hangar. A black plane sits in wait, it's cargo door open, forming a ramp into the awaiting open mouth of the plane. I look out the open doors of the hangar. White walls of snow race past the door, small drifts find their way in through the open double door. It's serene. I turn back to the plane, the soldier has already mounted the ramp, the engines firing up. I enter the plane. The inside is dark, only one small strip of lighting lights the path from the cargo bay to the cockpit. A few seats line the walls, and I take one across the way from the soldier. Strapping myself in I watch as the handler tells the pilots to head out. The back hatch whines shut, and it shudders the plane as it locks shut. The plane starts to roll out of the hangar, towards the runway.


	2. Missions

**Spring 1966:**

The plane gains speed as it takes off from the runway, aimed for New York. The wind from the blizzard outsid shake the plane up and down. I clench my eyes shut as one particularly strong gust throws the plane up, then slams it back down. I open my eyes again to see the soldier staring at me. I raise my eyebrow, he raises his. I regain a neutral face, as his turns into a piercing stare. I look away again and let my mind take in the details of the cabin. Wires hang from the roof, connecting different boxes to other parts, pipes run from one end to the other. An emergency release lever sits next to a few parachutes. I do a double take at the parachute stash. Only three. One for each of the pilots and our handler. I glance back at the soldier, and gesture with my eyes. He looks, and returns to my gaze with a crincle on his forehead. They think we are expendable. Of course we are, we are their assets, they can always get new ones. My mind throws up red flags, I think of why I should be taking orders from these people.

Time slowly rolls by on the way to New York. The small window next to me shows that it is dusk by the time we land. The wheels flip down, and screech with a puff of smoke as they hit the runway of Luguardia airport. We taxi over to a private hangar, and wait for night to fully envelop the city before we exit the plane.

As we walk out, two motor cycles sit waiting for the soldier and I. Sleek metal, painted a burnished steel color frame out the bikes. Dark grey leather comprise the seats. I climb onto one, with the soldier following suit. I start the bike, it roars to life, giving the bike a shudder. I can hear the other behind me. I pull out of the airport at breakneck speeds. The soldier comes up beside me, and we ride side by side to the vantage point.

We pull into a back ally, and scale the fire escape to get to the the roof. Once there I pull the rifle off my back, and fix my scope to it. I peer through the small spyglass, I automatically lower the gun and put it back on my back. The glass leading into the apartment of the politician is bullet proof.

"Bullet proof" I say to the soldier.

"Shit" he snaps back.

I grab the cable he has in one of his pockets, I can feel him tense as my fingers brush his leg. I swing it and toss one end to the apartment complex, the hook catching and securing on a pipe on the other roof. The soldier takes the line with his metal hand, and he puts the other around my waist. I secure myself by puting one arm over his shoulder, and the other around his front. Again I feel his whole body tense. He pushes off the roof, and I pull my legs up as we swing between the two buildings. We touch down on a window sill, one over from the one we want to be at. I let go of the soldier, and gracefully leap to the other windowsill. I slip out one of my knives and force it through the space between the upper and lower half of the window. I jimmy the latch until it clicks open. I re sheath my knife and slide open the window. I slip inside and wave to the soldier to follow. He slips in, and heads for the bedroom. I stand guard out in the hallway.

I listen to the conversation unfold from my position.

"Hey, who are you?" The politicians sleep filled voice rings out. The click of a gun tells me the soldier decided to go for the fast method.

**_Crack crack!_**

The gun fires twice. The soldier walks out, a splatter of blood runs diagonally across his face. We head back to the window and leap out as we hear the front door to the apartment being kicked down. We catch the fire escape on the other side, and scale down. I take my knife out to slice away a clothsline that has caught my boot. Shouts can be heard from the open window as a body guard pops his head out. He sees us and takes aim. My knife leaves my hand as it finds its mark between his eyes. He tumbled from the window, blood running down his face, staining it crimson. He lands on the sidewalk with a sickening crack. His arms lay at odd angles, his head twisted in a way that no one would have been able to do. The soldier pulls his gun and shoots at the second body guard, who falls back into the apartment, two bullets having lodged into his lung. I let go of the fire escape and drop the rest of the way down. The soldier completes the two story drop by landing beside me a second later.

We race for the bikes, but before we leave, I take my thumb and wipe away the blood on the soldiers face. His eyes close at my touch. I straddle my bike and bring it to life again. A few more shots ring out, they hit my bike. One pierces the gas tank and spills the gas out. I draw my pistol and fire back at the third assailant. It hits his shoulder, a bloody hole torn through his suit. He tumbles out the window but manages to hold onto the windowsill. I abandon my bike and climb onto the back of the other one.

"Go!" I shout.

He is accelerating before I have the chance to get a grip. I quickly wrap my hands around his middle. Her seems extremely thin to me, but very muscular. He pulls into the street, weaving a path between cars. With the mission over, we head back to Hydra. The plane waits ominously for us to be swallowed back into it.

Once back at Hydra, we are told to deposit our weapons back in the stockroom, then to take off our masks. We hand everything over, then have our jackets stripped off to expose the Kevlar tank tops underneath. We are pushed back into the silo, and put into cells next to each other. We are told to sit, and the restraints clip over our wrists. I look over to the soldier. His eyes tell me that everything is fine. The amber doors slide shut, and click as they lock. A blinding light, and an immense wave of cold follow. Unconsciousness falls once again.

More missions occur after. All the same though. We are woken up, we are told to prepare, and we get sent out on a mission. We get back after the assassinations, they strip us of our weapons and jackets, and we are put into cryo freeze. Occasionally we will be woken up to help train new recruits for a week or two. The soldiers hair has grown long now, as I'm sure mine has as well.

**Winter 1991:**

The unconsciousness slips away, as the door slides open. I look to my partner on my right side. He looks to me as well. I stand and am told to put my jacket on. Briefing is fast, we are to make this look as though it was an accident. No weapons are given to us, except a small tactical knife in case we get stuck. We are not given masks for this mission. Odd. We head for the plane, bound for upstate New York.


	3. Awake

**Winter 1991:**

The plane hurtles through the frozen air, on course for New York. The soldier sits next to me. His knee bouncing as he waits for us to touchdown in America. I reach my hand out and place it on the bouncing leg. He stops immediately. I look to him, and give a reassuring nod, one small enough so our handler can't see. I take my hand off his leg, and settle in for the remainder of the flight.

We land in an airport in Connecticut. It's small, one generally used for private planes. There waits a pair of motorcycles. We get on, and fire them up. We are told where to go, as they remind us to make it look like an accident. We drive to the point of intersection, where we proceed to pull onto a small side road that overlooks the road. We are just about on the border of upstate New York and Connecticut. A car comes up the road, I look for the license plate, it's not the car we want. A half hour passes before the next car comes up. I look at the license plate, "Stark 4" is what it says. That's it. That's the one. The soldier sees it too. He motions with is hand as we restart our bikes and pull up behind the car, following it down the road. The soldier takes his knife, and throws it at the front tire. The car looses control and slams into the Side of an abandoned building. Soft groans are heared from the passanger side door. The soldier pops the trunk and pulls out the briefcase. He tosses it to me as I strap it to the back of my bike. I let him have his fun, so I lean back against my bike. He walks slowly, with a murderous confidence to the driver door, he opens it as a nicely dressed man with snow whose hair falls out.

"Please, please help my wife." He pleads.

The soldier grabs him by the collar.

The mans face turns to one of realization. "Seargent Barnes?" He looks to me "Ms. Jones?" Both of our faces convey confusion. Is this why our handler didn't want us to wear masks? So this person would recognize us? The soldiers face hardens, he raises his metal arm and brings it down once, twice. The bones in his face make an awful crunching noise, blood trickles down his front. I can hear soft cry's of his name from inside the car.

"Howard..."

The soldier places the body back behind the wheel. And moves to the other side. He opens the door. He takes the metal hand around the women's neck. With three slow motions, her neck snaps three times.

We get back on our bikes and drive away. Accelerating through the dark woods, I look through the trees. The silver moon makes the trunks glow, and the branches dance in the wind.

Seemingly out of nowhere, something slams into the back of my head. White dots flood my vision momentarily, as I am thrown from my bike. I see the soldier thrown from his bike as well. I take a moment to recover, and draw my knife. Three S.H.I.E.L.D agents have their guns drawn on us. The materialized out of the trees. I pull the soldier to his feet next to me, and he draws his knife which he had extracted from the car tire.

"Looks like you brought knives to a gunfight!" One of them speaks up. He is clearly nervous.

I smirk as I throw my knife into the chest of one of the agents. I leap to the right and dodge roll a spray of bullets. The soldier does the same thing. I advance to the other two agents on my side left standing. They fire at me again, but I dodge the bullets once again. I flip over the shoulders of one, and flip him backwards into the other one. I force ones breath out of them, and hold the other down with my foot on their throught. With one hand I reach over and extract the knife from the chest of the first agent. Slowly, I slide the knife along the neck of the second agent. Blood spills out of the wound. His eyes become glassy as he struggles to take in a rattling breath. He slowly drowns in his own blood. With my foot still on the throught of the third, I thrust the knife into his chest. I glance over the soldier. He has taken care of the other three agents, and is now looking at me in a way in which he never has before.he crumples to the ground and stares intently at his hands.

I'm suddenly thrown for a loop. Something from long ago flashes through my mind.

**Summer 1946:**

"Now Hannah, you might feel some discomfort, hopefully it will be better than the first time though." Mr. Stark is standing in front of me. He helped to preform the original super soldier transformation, so it's only fitting he helped preform this one.

"Thank you Mr. Stark, I have seen the files." He gives me a confused look.

"What? Did you honestly expect me to say yes to this without doing my homework?"

"No, no it's not that. It's just that the files from project rebirth were supposed to have been sealed."

"Not if Agent Carter gives them to you." I reply. He nods in a kind of "that makes much more sense now" fashion.

I am strapped down to a table, the cold metal burns my skin for a moment before my body heat warms it up. Four metal arms come and encase me, I can hear small clicks as they extend their small needles. They pinch as they pierce my skin. The serum flows from the tubes and into my body. I gasp, it burns for a moment before flushing my body with a wave of cold. Someone I don't know sits behind a controll panel, flicking switches. He makes eye contact with me and presses a button. The table I am laying on flips into an upright position. I can momentarily see the lab. A large square room, machines line two of the four walls, with a staircase leading up to an observatory and the exit taking up the other two walls. In the center is a controll panel that wraps around in a semi circle. My table sits in front of that panel. The doors close around me, and someone clicks an oxygen tube into the back of the capsule. A blinding light flares up and I close my eyes. I feel as though I'm on fire, my bones feel like they are being snapped in half. My head is pounding, and I grunt, then grimace, knowing that they almost stopped the original super soldier transformation because he had made noise. I clench my teeth, now sweating profusely. Outside I can hear someone calling out percentages. 70,80,90,100. The light around me dies suddenly. The capsule cracks, then slides open. Letting in a much welcomed flow of cool air. A few people grasp my arms and lead me out of the tube. I take a few shaky steps, I look around. I'm much taller than I was before, I am at least 6 foot now, taller that almost everyone else in the room. I look down. My eyes widen, my muscular physique has improved rapidly.

**Winter 1991:**

I pull out of the memory with a gasp. The soldier looks as though he has just experienced the same thing. Hot tears fill my eyes, the realization of what we had just done hits like a bullet.

"Oh my god we just fucking killed Howard Stark" I sob out.

The soldier looks at me. His face has an expression of horror, terror, anger.

"Who are you?" He asks somewhat hostile like.

"Hannah Jones. Who are you?" I manage to snap back, trying to put up my best defenses.

"Bucky Barnes." He says back.

We sit in the road for a minute. The night creatures have all but disappeared from our violent confrontation with the agents. Whatever they hit us with must have broken through Hydras programming . Bucky stands, and offers his hand. I grip it and he pulls me up. I can feel his hand slightly tense up.

"We have to go. Unless you want to go back to Hydra?" He says with a questioning tone.

"No way in hell am I going back."

"Good, I was going to say the same damn thing."

We look to the bikes, and I start to pick one up off the ground. I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"Wait, they could have trackers. We should go on foot."

I turn to face him and abandon the bike. We begin to walk down the road, where after about a mile we hear motors in the distance. They are rapidly gaining. Bucky points up to a tree, and I nod. We dash over and scale the tree, barely making it to the first branch when two unmarked vehicles come around the corner. I peer through the window as the first one passes, inside are some Hydra agents I recognize, all heavily armed. I look to Bucky, whe is still watching the vehicles drive away.

"We should try to travel by the trees, stay off the road. Less of a chance that we will get found."

I nod in agreement. And take two shaky steps to the edge of the branch and leap. I fly into the next tree, and to the next, effortlessly and without sound. I make it a few trees over before I look behind me, Bucky is on my tail, making it from branch to branch only with a little more trouble than me. I continue leaping from branch to branch until dawn peeks over the horizon. We have followed the road for at least seven miles. I stop playing Tarzan and hold onto the tree trunk. Bucky stops next to me. I point, off in the distance looks to be a small town.

"We should stop there, get a change of clothes and rest. Then we could find out where to go next."

"We should go on foot from here, it will be faster if we both run. Besides, we will be more noticeable in the trees when it gets lighter."

I look over at him, is face is covered in small nicks from the branches slapping his face, as I'm sure mine is too. We drop down from the trees, and land with a thud on the ground. I duck and roll to relieve some of the pressure from my feet and regain a standing position, we take off, running faster than a human should be able to. I push myself faster to try to keep up with Bucky more, his version of the serum makes him faster than me. We reach the edge of the town and simultaneously scale the side of one of the outer buildings. It's only one story so it makes it easy. We stop on it's flat roof, and crouch behind the air conditioning unit. We peek our heads up and look down the street, guessing it's about a mile long. The street has smaller side streets branching off, when the sun comes up it will illuminate the entire town. I look down to see different store fronts, and a few restaurants. I look around to some of the side streets. Houses line the way, most have cloths lines coming from them. Many of those lines have cloths. We wait until nightfall.


	4. OnTheRun

We wait for hours for the sun to dip back below the horizon. Then wait another two hours for the lights to start flicking out. We slowly descend from the roof we have been camped on, and vault over the fence of someones back yard. I glance through the window where there is a screen lit up. On it there is a person speaking, and a title below shows what he is saying.

"December 17, Howard and Maria Stark found dead on side of road. Victims of a freak car crash." I continue sneaking past and yank a stiff shirt of the clothsline. From the next I pull a pair of jeans and socks, Bucky manages to also grab a pair of jeans. We move from back yard to back yard until we each have a full outfit. We don't manage to find any new shoes, so we are going to have to make do with the tactical boots. We back track to Main Street and find a new roof for a vantage point. It's the building of an old clock tower. We slide open the window and slip in. The old clock mechanism seems as though it hasn't moved in decades. It's gears rusted over from miss use. On the clock face, there are Roman numerals portraying the times. The clock is frozen on 7:46. One of the panels that make up the glass clock face is missing, so I can look out and see the street below. I look back inside. A spiral staircase descends into the building below, the black paint is chipped off in places. In one corner sits some old wooden crates, and a dusty duffel bag. We take our new sets of cloths, and turn away from each other. I quickly change, and call out when I'm decent. He does the same, and we both turn around. It's odd for the both of us to see ourself sin civilian cloths, instead of the tactical suits. His grey shirt is slightly too small over his muscular frame, the flannel he is wearing is too large. The jeans fit well though, and slide easily over the tops of his boots, so they are well hidden. My shirt and jacket are both to big, so I roll the sleeves up. My pants also fit smoothly over my boots. I walk up to him and help him roll up his sleeves. Then I take the duffel in the corner and stuff our suits inside.

"Thank you." I hear him say from behind me.

I turn to see him staring at me, with a slight smile on his face.

"Your welcome. We wouldn't want those sleeves to get in the way now would we?"

He makes a slight scoffing laugh at my jokes, before his face falls again.

"What are we going to do about my arm?" He lifts his left hand to expose the metal underneath it.

"I think for now you might have to just walk with your hand in you pocket until we can find gloves."

He nods, and we sit down. Our backs lean against the crates in the corner, as we sit side by side.

"Tomorrow we should try to get into town and find a way to get somewhere else. I vote we head to a city. More people means that when Hydra catches up to us, they will hesitate to make their move on us. New York City might be beat right now." He starts to lay down the plan.

"I agree. But I think you mean IF Hydra catches up to us."

"No I mean when. Hydra will eventually catch up to us. It doesn't matter that we are probably the two best assassins on the planet. They will eventually find us."

"Alright. Get some sleep then. I will take first watch." I say in a quiet voice.

I know very well that he won't sleep. I know he wants me to sleep. After three, maybe four hours he tells me to switch with him. He says for me to try to rest. I manage to drift in and out of a conscious state, and at one point I feel my head fall to rest on his shoulder. All is silent. Soft wind silently blows small fresh drifts of snow through the open panel in the clock face. Dawn breaks me from my sleep, and I pull my head up. Bucky is looking at me with soft eyes.

"Are you ready to go?" He asks.

I stand up to show him I'm ready. Bucky slings the duffel bag over his shoulder, and we exit through the window we came in the night before. Emerging from the roof, we jump down into the ally below. He shoves his left hand in his pocket and we walk out onto Main Street. There are already a few people walking around, some of them opening stores or restaurants. One or two cars rumbles by, but they all pay us little mind. I nod over to a bus station. We are going to have to get on one without being noticed. Easy. We look to the one that has New York City lit up on the front, and we head over. We stop and sit on a bench as the bus driver exits the bus. Careful to avoid any security cameras, we sneak over and get on. The bus is scheduled to leave in a half hour. We head for the very back, and slip below the seats. We wait. Only a few passangers get on the bus. We get lucky as they take seats in either the front or middle. The bus driver gets on and starts up the bus. I nod to Bucky who is still sitting in the foot space of the seat opposite me. We slowly move to sit on the seat.

The ride is only a few hours long. As we pull into the bus stop, we wait until everyone exits the bus. Then we slowly move off the bus. We jump off the bus and jog a half mile down the road. Tall skyscrapers rise around us, their windows glinting in the sunlight. I point twards a squat motel. We enter.


	5. Shootout

The motel is small. The main lobby is cramped and smells slightly like old milk. The furniture is ripped, and the man behind the desk is old. We arnt looking for a place to stay, just for a place to catch our breath. I walk up to the man behind the counter.

"Excuse me sir, could you tell us how to get to Times Square?"

He smiles and tells me to wait as he goes to get a map. I spot a pair of gloves behind the counter and swipe them. I turn to Bucky and toss them to him. He catches them and quickly slides them over his hands. The man comes back and points us twards our destination.

"You and your husband have fun now." He smiles at us.

His comment startled me for a second, but I play it off and continue on. I walk up behind Bucky and grip his hand, playing off the whole married couple thing. He rolls with it, and we walk out into the street. He stops and opens up the duffel bag. Inside next to our suits are a variety of different snacks.

"Where on earth did you get those?" I question.

"I took my knife to the vending machine when neither of you were paying any attention. Inserted it into the quarter slot. Free snacks." He shrugs smugly.

I shake my head with a laugh and we pull one of the snacks out. We continue to walk and eat, headed for a destination where we know we can get a good vantage point.

We make it to Times Square, where we climb up a fire secape to an abandoned top floor of an apartment building. Inside there are a few sofas, a table, two chairs, and a stove. Around the corner is a small half finished bathroom, containing a toilet and shower. There is trash all over the floor, as if we arnt the only ones to stay here. We pull out our knives and do a full sweep of the upper floor. No one is here. I look out the cracked window onto the busy street below. I can see a clock that says 5:37. Bucky comes back from his sweep holding an extra coat he found. With not much else to do, we sit on the sofa sharing the coat over our laps. We tell each other about our previous lives. I tell him about my hometown in Wisconsin, then tell him how I volunteered for the revamped super soldier program, and how they tried to re create the formula from Captain America. With this Bucky tears up.

"Steve Rogers was my best friend. He was the best person I ever knew."

"Oh my god, you are THE Bucky Barns. Howling commando Bucky Barns. Famous war hero..." I trail off, "Everyone thought you were dead! You were so famous! Then after your death, when the Captain died..."

"Wait, Steve is gone?"

"Yeah. Two weeks after the world was told of your death, Captain Rogers disappeared after a supposed plane crash into the arctic. Soon after that the war was over."

His face is screwed up with saddens. A tear slips down his face.

"I had always prepared to live on after Steve. Now I find out that he lives on after me only to trash his plane into the arctic. Dumb ass punk."

I put my hand cupped around his jaw, and with my thumb I wipe away the tear. He melts into my warm hand.

"After he was killed, they built a memorial to him in Brooklyn. We could go see if it's still there in the morning."

Bucky opens his eyes.

"You would do that? No, what am I saying. That would be the first place Hydra would look for us."

"Or the last. Think about it. Hydra would look for us in the last place they would think of. They know we are smarter than that. It's worth the risk. I know how much this will mean to you."

"Alright. But when we go, we should keep our distance."

I agree, and we settle in for the night. We sit with our heads rested on each other. My legs draped over his lap. It's not the most comfortable position, but it's conserving our body heat. Neither of us say anything to the other, even though we are both awake. At one point in the night I start to shiver slightly. Bucky puts his arm around my back and starts to move it slowly up and down, creating heat.

Dawn breaks once again, and we lift our heads. Slowly we untangle from each other. Neither of us want to move. We gather up our things, and descend the fire escape back to street level. The street is already bustling with people. We grasp each other's hand, and walk in the direction of Brooklyn. At one point we come across a subway station, and sneak on. It takes us a while, but we eventually come across a small park. It's a nice park, with brick paths latex in a circle around the statue in the center. Four paths branch out from that cirlcle to the streets on either of the four sides. Park benches surround the statue, and a few trees reach here or there in the park. We walk closer to the statue. It's made of stone, expertly carved. The captains features are designed elegantly, his sheild held aloft in the air by an unmoving arm. The statue is about the size of a real person, but is propped four feet in the air on a large platform. Imbedded in the platform is a metal plaque.

"Captain America, otherwise known as Steve Rogers, fell in World War II. He and his howling commandos fought bravely to protect their country from the Axis powers. This statue is dedicated to the city that raised this great hero."

1918-1945

Bucky puts his hand on the foot of the statue.

"Miss you punk. Remember, I'm with you till the end of the line."

His eyes tear once again just as the first shot rings out through the cold air. The bullet misses us by inches and slams into the stone base of the statue. We spring into action, and draw our knives. Hydra agents come out from different positions around the street.

"What was that about this not being the place they would look first?" Bucky asks as he raises his knife.

I throw my knife at the closest agent and dive after it. Bucky springs into action behind me. I pull the knife out of the agents chest and take his rifle. Shots ring out around me. I start shooting too. I throw my knife at another agent, and it sticks in his neck. I shoot down another two. I hear Bucky grunt behind me as we start to shoot back to back. Civilians scream and run every which way, the Hydra agents continue to fall, two more vans of agents pull up behind us, Bucky gives me a shove.

"Go!" He shouts as we run. He takes the rifle and shoots over his shoulder. We turn down an ally as I trip. Bucky turns around as he hears me fall.

"No!"


	6. Fallen

I watch as she falls. She gives a cough, and blood bubbles out of her agape mouth. I kneel next to her, and scoop her into my arms, face up. Her long legs bent at odd angles. I press my hand to the gunshot wound through her abdomen. It's a through and through. There is nothing I can do about it. I look up to footsteps as Hydra agents surround the ally.

"Go, get out of here Bucky." She coughs.

"I'm not going anywhere without you." I can barely hold myself together.

She can't do this. She just woke up from Hydras imprisonment. She hasn't gotten to live her life yet. She coughs again, and more blood bubbles up. She smiles. If she wasn't dying I might have called her the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her soft features glow in the sunlight. Her green eyes sine with flecks of gold. Her long brown hair falls in loops down to the ground. Her lips are red from the blood, but plump. I take my gloves hand and wipe away the blood from her mouth, as her eyes glass over. Her chest gives one last heave and stops moving. I lean down to kiss her, and pull back up. Slowly I lay her on the ground, and tear off the gloves, exposing the metal of my hand. I look to the Hydra agents who have gotten closer. I stand. I know what one killed her. He looks scared, he knows that his mission was to bring us back, not kill.

In a blind rage I lunge for him first. With an enraged yell my metal fist snaps his neck, as I through his corpse at a group of other agents. They start shooting, trying to hit my legs, I back kick one into the road, who promptly gets hit by a truck. I pull the knife from one of their belt loops and slash savagely. I get two, when I feel a blow to the back of my head. I'm nocked down, a sharp prick to my back, and I'm hit with a tranquilizer dart.

When I next wake up, I'm strapped into the chair in the silo. The tanks all around me are empty. I look to Hannah's tank, and feel a surge of hot anger. The mechanism comes down around my head. There isn't any use in fighting anymore. What do I have left to fight for? I let my body become loose, as a jolt of electricity charges through my brain. I tilt my head back and scream in pain. It's all I can do at this point.

I wake up once more. They take me in front of my handler, who has the breifcase I just retrieved from my mission. He tells me I did a good job. I am told to report back to the silo. I do as I'm told, and swiftly walk to the chamber. I am comanded to sit, the amber door closes. Cold. Then nothing.

**Somewhere in the Hydra base. **

"And your sure about this?"

"Yes sir. The Winter Soldier will have no recollection of the cadet. He won't remember that he broke through his programming. I promise, he is fine again. Whenever his next mission is, he will be ready."

The three men, an old man in a military uniform, a scientist, and a man that everyone called Mr. Secretary, stand watching as the soldier is put into cryo sleep.

"Good. Hydra will have use of him yet."


End file.
